


Day 20: OOC Clothing

by orphan_account



Series: Pieces of Abandoned OTP Porn Challenge in No Particular Order [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, OOC Clothing, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Wade keeps his panties on like a good little virgin (cough), and Peter buys frozen enchiladas to say ‘I love you.’</p>
<p>(Day 20 of my OTP porn challenge, prompt “OOC clothing.”)</p>
<p>
  <i>"When they both come down from the high, Wade’s babbling about those delicious frozen enchiladas with the sour cream sauce."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 20: OOC Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> Established-relationship-ish Spideypool with the maid outfit, because there’s no such thing as “OOC clothing” for good ol’ ‘Pool. Among frozen Mexican food, though, nothing tops the cheese enchilada. I made myself so hungry writing this.

“Seriously,” Peter pants as he pushes in, and Wade arches off the bed, his apron sliding, lacy and feminine, across his thigh, “a maid costume?”

Wade grabs Peter’s hips, pulls him the rest of the way in because he _needs_ to feel this, after the week he’s had. He has a powerful need to be taken by Peter, because Peter’s warmth and safety and everything Deadpool hates but Wade needs, loathe as he is to admit it.

So he just laughs manically and says, “Jeez, Spidey, I didn’t know you were so hot for me!” as Peter stills, considerate and so gorgeously flushed, above him, to let him adjust, healing factor or no. Peter smiles wryly and pushes Wade’s skirt up further, so it’s almost on his abs. One of Wade’s garters has slipped down his thigh, and the bodice is so rucked up that it’s getting tight around the chest.

Peter’s hands on him are gentle even as his eyes are heated, and he moves like Wade will break if he pushes too hard, which, okay, maybe Wade has a _few_ triggers, but it’s not nearly as bad as Spidey-kid makes it out to be. He’s learned too much from Captain America.

The boxes are just ellipses and _“ooh, yeah, right there”_ s, so Wade ignores them in favor of pushing himself onto Peter’s cock, because Wade knows he won’t break and he fucking loves taking Peter’s cock, loves it maybe nearly as much as queso enchiladas with sour cream sauce (oh God, food, he needs food, right after this he’s going straight to the store and picking up one of those frozen Mexican dinners). 

Wade makes cringeworthy appreciative noises as Peter hits his prostate over and over, because apparently his Spidey-sense extends to sex, and Wade knows Peter thinks highly of loudness, like every barely-not-a-teenager who’s too used to shitty Redtube porn snuck past his foster-daddy’s firewalls. The kid’s earning his keep, too, fucking Wade slow and thorough and scraping his nails against the satin and lace of the dress over Wade’s chest.

“Spidey, n-need—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter gasps, taking Wade’s neglected cock in one hand, hitching one of Wade’s legs up higher so that he can support his weight on the other arm. It doesn’t take much to push Wade over the edge, ruining his pretty satin maid costume _and_ the black silk panties he had on, because dumb Peter couldn’t be bothered to take them off, just pushed them to the side like so much of an expensive striptease. 

Peter’s not far behind him, thrusts going all wobbly and uncoordinated and _fuck yeah_ , Wade _has_ to convince him out of the condom sometime because can anyone say _hella_? It’s like the author has a kink for this shit, seriously, the way Wade suddenly _wants_ , even though he’s just painted his damn dress white. 

When they both come down from the high, Wade’s babbling about those delicious frozen enchiladas with the sour cream sauce, and continues chattering happily about the wide range of frozen Mexican cuisine even as Peter cleans him up with a handful of tissues from a box on the nightstand.

Speaking of boxes, the boxes are back again, and the yellow one is evangelizing on the merits of frozen Mexican food along with Wade, but the white one is wondering if maybe Wade’s distracting himself from the way Peter looks all soft and fucked-out, and so young and so adult at the same time, so captivating.

“Shut up, fuck’s sake,” he mutters, and Peter’s used to it, so he doesn’t say anything, just runs a hand down the side of Wade’s cowled face and tells him _stay here, I’ll run to the store and grab the TV dinners_. It sounds a lot like some emotional shit Wade can’t face yet, especially not on an empty stomach, so he just tells Spidey to get the Super-Grande one with like seventeen enchiladas and also to get some extra sour cream sauce while he’s out gallivanting.


End file.
